


Prove It (Day 7)

by Rixxy8173571m3W1p3



Category: Jane and the Dragon (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Gone With The Wind Quote, Character Study, Competition, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crushes, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Feelings, Feels, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I go by a diffrent username on FF.net, Janther - Freeform, Janther Week (Jane and the Dragon), Janther Week 2021 (Jane and the Dragon), Jealousy, Kissing, Knight's, Lies, Longing, Medieval, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pining, Prompt Fic, Rival Relationship, Rivalry, Romance, Secret Crush, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Teasing, janexgunther
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29873577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3/pseuds/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3
Summary: "Oh, nothing." He started; pushing away his bitter feelings and puffing out his chest while glancing down upon her from the corner of his eye. "I just could not help but notice how pathetic that kiss was." (My contribution for day 7 of Janther week 2021 based on the quote "You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how." — Gone with the Wind)
Relationships: Gunther Breech/Jane Turnkey, Jester & Jane Turnkey
Kudos: 3





	Prove It (Day 7)

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this on Tumblr and on Fanfiction.net under my username [ Jatd4ever ](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5724289/Jatd4ever/)

Upon birth, there seemed to have been this unsaid stipulation; that Gunther Breech would never belong to himself, but rather be indentured to those that watched over him. Guilt lined his pockets, and parched were the roadways of circumstance, but it all took a turn for the better the day he became acquainted with her. In those early days, he had known her to be in training to be a lady in waiting, but her boldness, although noticeable, had not been as pronounced. Yet, as they spent those first couple of years as passersby, he could pick out that soft, freckled face anywhere. Anywhere.

Secrets were hidden behind those vibrant green eyes, and Gunther could not help but be drawn by them, but they were not equals; neither by station nor by birth; had she been a boy, they might have been able to disregard the formalities and become fast friends, though he would have been a fool to believe that a possibility. Wealth could not buy consequence, though it could induce others to turn the other way and disregard disgrace, albeit temporarily. These were the matters that were left for others to be concerned about, for as a child, the raven-haired squire simply had to listen to his mentor, but despite this, there had not been the level of trust to allow him to be persuaded to ask if there was a reason why he often had turbulence in his tummy whenever he was near the odd, fiery-tempered girl who enjoyed watching the knights train in the yard; leaving him to blame it on the fatty, rich foods his father could afford. On rare occasions that he found Jane unaccompanied, they would converse, and he would be stupefied by her openness and compassion, but it would be cut short by the looming lady in waiting; her downturned mouth and sharp tones quieting the redhead and whose disapproval scared him away. At that time, he could not amount to much, let alone be brave, but he wanted to be; to be strong, honorable, and capable to protect the weak; to protect those similar to himself. 

However, he could have never expected that out of all the men and knight's in the kingdom, it would only take a lady with a dream to humble them all; the same enigma he tried to understand.

To be sure, the changes in her circumstance did complicate matters, but her increased company did not deter the strange infatuation he had for her character; no one could create the wonderful madness that was Jane Turnkey and unleash her to the world without the suspicion of existing in a neverending dream. Oh, it felt as though their roles were confused time and again, but Jane continued to win in everyone's eyes. However, he was not winning in hers. And of the many forms he wished to take, that of friend or lover lingered longer than he cared to admit. In dreams, Gunther had become indulgent, but that succeeded in making real-life an even greater disappointment. 

Societal pressure and his father's abuse did not lessen his hardship, and her stubborn, competitive nature inspired him to contrive, but it weighed upon his soul; divided between honor and his duty. And watching upon her success and great capabilities added to his stress and in turn fear. Father demanded no less than victory, but Gunther was not as swift, brave, or capable as her. Truly, at one point he thought he hated her, but with time came acceptance. Jane was the better squire, but he could not let her know that; his pride would not allow it.

However, her friends did not let him forget it. Among them all, there was one who conspired to add to his misery; bullying him whenever he had the chance. Honestly, the fool's lack of shame was to be envied. Oh, there was no mystery behind the fool's inclination and actions towards the lady knight; his infatuation had incited him to cling to her like a limpet. And it was for this reason among various reasons that Gunther could not stand him. Why? Because Jester had the talent of making everyone like him, and above all else manipulated Jane's time when it could have been spent better elsewhere; like sparring with the squire.

Giggling and carrying on is not what he considered a good use of one's time, but he did not carry the same sort of privilege the others had; the raven-haired squire did not have time to play. Instead, he could only stare, but he did not always like what he saw. Today, like other days, Gunther witnessed the smiles and easy way she acted around the jester; frustrating him to a degree that he could not comprehend. Why did she always give him a hard time for simply existing while the fool could get away with treason and still be forgiven? Well, perhaps Jane would not forgive anyone of treason, but still, it was not fair; it was not the raven-haired squire's fault that he said so much that he did not mean; blame it on his inability to express himself.

At home, in the privacy of his bed-chamber, it did not appear so hard to write down a few lines that were inspired by her quick wit and agitating nature, but when Gunther faced her in the yard, the conflagration in his soul provoked him and invited his cowardice; twisting his inward parts and allowing him to be persuaded by his father to portray the pretense of character that she hated. There was so much that could not be excused, and any validity he might have had if he had not been persuaded to act in this disrespectful manner had been relinquished in the earliest days of their acquaintance; doomed to be rivals. However, it had its moments where his happiness was fully relied upon seeing her in the yard day after day, no matter how much she had the pleasure of disliking him. Truly, they had their way of carrying on, although tempestuous, might have been enough had it not been for the interference of the fool; provoking whatever disagreeable moment and adding to it for his benefit. Oh, that minstrel did not know when to leave well enough alone.

Yet, the jester did know how to make it so Gunther would be alone. It was during these occasions that the weight of the disparity was great, and it was made obvious as to why Jane would prefer the company of one over the other; in temperament, composure, in its liveliness, and purpose the two young men were unequaled, but this did not matter. Had the squire been more friendly, perhaps things might have been different. And it was evident in her countenance today; a sudden, rare blush and softness of manner that fascinated and frustrated him. 

Having been used to seeing Jane act so unlike other girls, Gunther could not accept that this creature before him was the very same stubborn, pig-headed, mess of a squire acting like a maiden. And what had been the cause of this? A few well-placed compliments and a kiss on the hand done by the sheepish Jester. Indeed, it might have been honorable, but the raven-haired squire was sure he could do better than that. There was no way the fool would get the advantage.

Walking towards her, as he would have had it been with the sole intention to tease her, he staggered but for the briefest moments as he admired how beautifully she colored. Focus! He told himself. This was not the time for him to get distracted. “Getting sweet on clown boy are we?”

“What do you want, beef brain?”

There was so much that he wanted; whether his wants stemmed from bad breeding or lack of good treatment, he could not say. However, friendship could be found at the top of his list, along with the respect from his peers, instead of the vexation that was exaggerated by the hands on her hips. “Oh, nothing." He started; pushing away his bitter feelings and puffing out his chest while glancing down upon her from the corner of his eye. "I just could not help but notice how pathetic that kiss was.”

Jane flushed at the notion. “Really? And what do you know of kisses?”

In truth, Gunther knew nothing of the sort, but it was not like he was going to tell her that. The shanties of sailors had explained more than he cared to know about the vulgarities of the flesh, and he supposed that his mind needed refreshment from further study of the Psalter if he ever hoped to be pure of heart. “I know it is not supposed to be done like that.”

“Unlike you," The lady knight retorted, "Jester is courtly and civil.”

“I do not see how being courtly and civil has any place when it comes to romance. If you are going to be kissed, it should mean something. Someone like you Jane," He emphasized, finding that his heart was beating furiously and that the effort in his explanation brought about a measure of fatigue. "should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

“Really? And who, pray tell, knows? Not you."

Who would have thought of kissing him? Not his mother that he did not remember, or his father, and not even the nursemaid that his father fancied a bit too long for his liking, but that gave her no right to challenge him. Really, at a time like this, the frog rider, who barely knew how to brush her hair, or to be a proper lady wanted to know if he could do better? And he suddenly realized where his thoughts were going. It did not matter who was the better kisser, because he wanted what the fool wanted; to gain her affection, and he could not lose. “Why not? You do not believe me?”

“No, I do not.”

“Fine, then I will have to prove it.”

He decided to face this as though he were making a business deal; trying to keep cool and stay calm, but he found himself shaking as he touched her. This was madness, but once started, he could not be persuaded not to be drawn to her as he was often in the nature of repressing; cupping her face, and entering the fever dream those vibrant eyes of hers incited as they widened. Despite many deceptions, there was always too much truth in the things he said, and he was going to do as he intended. And whether it had been a lack of love or an abundance of heartache in his life thus far which shook him to his bones, or if he had simply gone mad, instinct took over when his mind could not comprehend the consequence of the action. He bent down, and captured her mouth in a soft, chaste kiss; the sound of her surprise suppressed by the warmth and closeness of him.

Gunther had not expected that someone with such a loudmouth would feel so sweet, or that the sound of his name would enrich him as it had when said in a whisper; quelling the storm that had been brought on by the actions of the fool. For her part, she felt him smile, and as much as Jane wanted to smack him, she knew he was only teasing and his teasing maddened her. Yet, in equal madness, his masculine scent only succeeded in drawing her to him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, encouraging him to wrap his free arm around her girlish waist. Jane was kissing Gunther, and although as a respectable lady of the court she was tarnishing her reputation, she did not dislike it; there was a rightness in it.

Due to his lack of experience, as well as self-confidence issues, he would hold back from showing the full extent of his affection. But of what he could show, it spoke of his desperation. The arm about her waist held her a fraction tighter, and the hand cupping her face, gripped it as though she would disappear from his grasp, but he feared what would happen once he let go. They would return to being rivals, and she would continue to despise him with equal if not greater vexation. And sadness welled up in his chest then, until it burned and tears bit at the back of his eyes, and the beginnings of regret birthed a near sob which escaped him as he deepened the kiss and explored the softness of her mouth.

If he had not been preoccupied with his anxieties, he could almost imagine that the redhead was kissing him back; and that what had been shared was not breath, or the taste of one another, but life, and the will to continue on existing; that the darkness within him could become as unblemished as a freshly sheared sheep. In truth, despite all this, he did not want to let her go, but let go he must. And the arms which clung to her limply fell to his sides, and they parted. Jane could scarcely open her eyes, and her head was spinning. Though being of a strong constitution she would not faint, but upon chancing a furtive glance at Gunther, she saw that he seemed unwell. 

With one hand he clutched at his head, and the other held on to his stomach. This was unlike him. “Gunther, are you…”

But she could say no more. She was met with his furtive glance; his expression was strange, scared, worried, and surprised all at once. Frankly, it was all almost wild. Was this the same Gunther she had always been acquainted with? Whose stormy gray eyes held such longing?

For a moment, there was nothing, but the excruciating silence. To be sure, there was a castle full of people, carrying on with their lives and fulfilling their duties, but only the practice dummy bore witness to what had been done; the blacksmith might have had cause to interfere, but he too had not been around to witness the scene. Neither could feel the true weight of their actions. However, had Jane been given the time, she might have realized sooner what was the matter with him, but before she could voice further concern, that look of his disappeared behind a wall of immediate indifference and Gunther ran away. With all her might she had tried calling after him, but he would not listen, and she gave up only when his form could no longer be seen.

* * *

Gunther disappeared and had hidden in his room, with nothing but his thoughts, quill, and parchment. With his father away for business, there was no one but the chambermaid and cook in his stone house, but he had never felt so alone. He had messed up the only relationship worth having, and who knows what punishment would be waiting for him considering he missed out on his lessons. Yet, there was no peace in his solitude for the subject of his distress was constantly in his thoughts and the events of the other day reminded him of certain truths; they were mismatched. And with their constant bickering, it could not be supposed that anything good would come out of this, so perhaps he should begin to plan on how he was going to run away from it all and start over.

Without any other family or friends, he would be as alone as he had always been told he would be if he did not obey his father, and again he became conscious of his deep-seated melancholy. True, Gunther did not hold much affection for his blood, but he had hoped his father would someday come to approve of him. And Jane, he had hoped that...but he should not be so foolish. It was as he was dwelling upon these matters that the subject of his distress climbed into his room through his window. "So this is where you have been."

"Jane?!” He stood; surprised at this development. “What are you doing here?”

“To see you.” She answered; unaffected by the idea that this might have been inappropriate. “No one has seen or heard from you for three days. Sir Theodore would have come had I not...had I not volunteered to come instead.”

“I was busy.” He started; eager for the conversation to end already. “What I want to know is how you managed to get up here.”

“I did not scale the side of your house if that is what you are implying. If it had not been for that tree out there, I might have had to disguise myself as the chambermaid or had Dragon give me a hand, but I had to see you.”

Jane wanted to see him? This inspired hope to swell up in him, but having been disappointed for a better part of his life, he could not believe this to be true. He would be foolish to readily believe her. “Me? Oh no, I cannot believe that. You wanted to see me after what I had done? Either I have gone mad,” Which would not have been so surprising. “or you have come to challenge me to a duel for disgracing your honor. I am surprised that dragon of yours has not come and burned me to a crisp by now.”

“Dragon is too busy with cows to be preoccupied with what he calls short-life drama. And if I had come to challenge you to a duel,” She explained, “do you not think I would have brought a sword?”

“Well, how am I supposed to know you do not have a dagger hidden somewhere on your person?”

This earned him an eye roll, but it did not invite her contempt. “I promise on my honor as a knight squire, that I do not. Now, if you are done making foolish assumptions, I would like to inform you of the reason for this visit. In truth, even if Sir Theodore had not been concerned about your whereabouts, I would have been.”

This succeeded in annoying him, for again he could not believe anyone would care to see him. “Why? I do not see how you could be concerned about my whereabouts. I thought you would be relieved if I had not been around.”

“Only when you are being a beef brain. However, you are mistaken. If you were not around, who else would I spar with? You are the only other squire.”

“You could have taken up clown boy’s offer and practiced on him instead.”

“I could have,” She confessed, “but he would not put up much of a fight, and what fun would that be? No, it would not do. If I did not have the pleasure of trying to best you,” She smiled, “then how could I hope to sharpen my skills?”

In that respect, he could not disagree; Jane was right. Without her, he would not feel as motivated to become better or stronger. After all, he had been trying to catch up with her for the entirety of their acquaintance, and the remorse he felt was brought to the forefront of his mind. “Jane, I am sorry about what happened.”

Studying him, Jane did find that he did seem to mean it, and was genuinely remorseful. “I know. I, too, should apologize.”

“About what?”

“You see, I did not have the time to share my opinion on a certain matter.”

“What are you talking about?” He wondered.

With a quick stride, Jane came to stand before him and enveloped him in an unexpected, tight embrace. If she had wanted to kill him, she could have succeeded in doing so since he had let his guard down, but that is not what she intended to do. For his part, Gunther tensed up, unused to such ready affection, but soon returned the embrace; relishing the warmth that permeated his tunic, and holding her so close until it felt as though their bodies molded, and she melted into him. Pulling back a little, she softened, “A person like you Gunther…,” but paused; choosing instead to lift his chin so that he would not look away. “should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

That soft, freckled face that he would know anywhere and those vibrant green eyes, that he could not help but be drawn by them were piercing him until his secrets appeared to be laid bare. There was no concealing oneself around Jane for she would not have borne it. Half afraid and half curious, he questioned, “And you do, frog rider?”

With a laugh, she answered. “Oh, you do not believe me? I suppose I will have to prove it.”

“Perhaps you should.”

“Maybe I shall.”

Though not one to be bested, he kissed her first, and this time she was the one smiling. For Gunther, this appeared to be affection returned, though his future was still uncertain; it did not mean they would no longer be rivals or that they were better friends, but as always his happiness depended on seeing her day after day. And as quickly as the kiss began, it was to end because she had to breathe. However, the beef brain chose to chase after her retreating mouth; amusing her in such a way she had never experienced before, and her heart swelled with affection at his earnestness. Though again, Jane pulled away and the arms which had been around her waist a moment ago were brought down to rest at his sides; fists clenched in quick frustration, and he found himself halfway exhausted by his desire and suddenness of it all. “Bat bladders Jane.”

There was the Gunther she remembered. Amused, she could not help but tease him; it was their way. And her beguiling smile taunted him, and he hated how much he wanted to kiss her some more. “What is the matter, Gunther? Afraid that I am a better kisser than you?”

What was she talking about? Wait, had he not been trying to prove a point just now? “Of course not. Now, you better come back here this instant. I am not done proving it to you yet.”

Did Gunther not know by now that she would not listen? He must have known, but Jane was in a generous mood today; that, and she was encouraged to explore this alien concept with her beef brain seeing as he appeared to like her as much as she liked him. Besides, if she left him alone, she was sure he would raise the wall of indifference he used to keep others away, and that would not do. After all, he was, although annoying, her friend and comrade; having a responsibility to watch him so that he did not hurt himself. With understanding, she knew what she had to do. Turning around, and glancing over her shoulder, she challenged, “Really? Well, you will have to catch me first.”

From the window she had used to enter his room was the very same she used to retreat. Gunther had no choice but to run after her because he hated to lose, and just as they were getting to the good part. Yet, his annoyance was softened by the sight of those copper tresses flying about her like wisps of flame as she climbed down the sturdy tree. Oh, he could be fanciful; thought she appeared otherworldly at times, and he was no better than the fool in this respect, but who could persuade him to dislike it? Perhaps Gunther was bound to love what would despise him, but he never claimed to be smart.


End file.
